


People Watching

by AdultOrphan



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), Game of Thrones RPF, SanSan - Fandom
Genre: Divergent Timelines, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-20
Updated: 2015-03-20
Packaged: 2018-03-14 15:18:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3415589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdultOrphan/pseuds/AdultOrphan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa and Margaery are enjoying one of the last truly summer-like days as autumn approaches. While sitting out people watching, they see a man riding a golden horse with a physique that would rival the Warrior himself. Then they are surprised by who they were admiring.</p><p>Sandor never left after the Battle of Blackwater Bay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	People Watching

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pinkgeranium](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkgeranium/gifts).



> All characters and settings belong to the wonderful GRRM. I am only borrowing his toys, and playing with them, since The Mountain is not around to punish me. I gain nothing from this work, except writing experience with superior characters.
> 
> AU, Sandor never left after the BBB and is still stuck in KL, being his usual gruff self. Jaime is there too, just for extra spice.
> 
> This is my first attempt at fan fiction, despite reading hundreds of other SanSan fictions. LITERALLY HUNDREDS. I was talking care of my homebound mother, so I had plenty of time on my hands. I have read so many wonderful pieces, that I was inspired to try my hand, now that we are stuck in this endless winter.
> 
> All criticism is welcome, I have a thick skin and a desire to improve. Just a warning, I know the difference between to, too and two; and their, there and they're, but I will still use the wrong ones, just because.

Sansa is so grateful that she is no longer betrothed to King Joffery, and she is able to enjoy the company of his new future queen. Their friendship not only allows her to no longer be so alone, but also to be more socially acceptable; not just "The Traitor's Daughter and the "Traitor's Sister". Some people even try to be nice to her, now that the King has put her down so roughly in open court. She accepts their sympathy with a straight face, and bites the inside of her cheek, or she thinks of her poor Lady to keep from smiling in relief. She does not have to wed and bed a monster.

She receives an invitation that morning to go on a picnic lunch with the future queen, and they will be leaving their handmaids behind. They will only have a couple of Tyrell guards following them. This will be the most privacy Sansa could ever expect in the presence of her new friend. In these rare times she fells she could just be Sansa. Margaery has one of the guards carry their picnic basket and one carry the blanket. They stroll and talk about safe subjects, while the guards are on their tails; weather, royal wedding plans, the upcoming tourney for the royal wedding.

They end up on the grounds where the jousting matches are held, the same one that held the Tourney of the Hand. Grooms and knights are running up and down the field exercising their horses and testing the newer three year old horses for the coming tourney season. Sansa is surprised that they stop walking here. Margaery orders her guards to set up the blanket and basket under one of the few shade trees on the greens, close to the track. Margaery tells them, "Thank you so very much Sers. I think I will feel most protected with you on that hill, over there. That way you can see if any trouble is coming leagues away." One of the guard bows and states, "As you command My Lady."

"Now that they are gone we can get down to the business of gossiping and people watching."

"Is that our plan for your picnic Lady Margaery, people watching?"

"Why of course Lady Sansa, it is the best sport for women of all ages. Since you are unattached again, it is a requirement. See look at that fine Ser over there on the golden horse, the one behind the banner?"

"But you cannot see his face."

"Does it matter. His body is the most exceptional I have ever seen", she giggles.

"He does make most men look like little boys Lady Margaery."

"His thighs are practically bursting out of those pants, and he has such a muscular and well formed and rounded, um..." 

"Yes, I see, now that you have pointed that out," Sansa giggles and blushes.

"Now that I have pointed it out, it is all that I can see," she sighs.

As the warm wind changes direction and now blows from the west, the banner reveals the Warrior-made-flesh rider. Sansa gasps and then chokes as she tries to hide her shock.

"Hold your arms up and lean forward Sansa," as Margaery pats Sansa on the back sharply. Seeing the distress the Tyrell guards come running down the hill to aid. The commotion created by the guards catches the warrior's attention, and he speeds over on his golden horse. He slides from the horse, and is on Sansa before she can protest. He drapes her over his forearm like he would his cloak and pats her soundly on the back twice. Once he hears the large intake of air, he stands her up and looks her in the face. 

"You alright, little bird?"

"Fine Ser, thank you for your kind help. I only swallowed wrong... could not catch my breath." The Hound cringes at the title, but says nothing since the little bird's breathing is still halted and labored.

The guards arrive as The Hound sets her to right. "These ladies would be half fucked by the time you could react." The Hound continues with his attentions to Lady Sansa, and pulls out a handkerchief. He start wiping away the tears on her cheeks. He notices the owlish faces of the guards, and the open mouth of Lady Margaery and hands Lady Sansa the handkerchief so she can take care of herself. As he glares backs at the guards, they take a few steps away.

"Clegane, thank you for coming to our aid so quickly. It is no small wonder you are my Joffery's sworn shield. Poor Lady Sansa was just admiring your ... golden horse, and then could not catch her breath. If I am not mistaken, that is not your usual ride."

"Correct My Lady. I usually ride Stranger, a jet black courser. This is Ser Jaime's mare, Honor. She is as far from being like Stranger as you can get. I was exercising her to see if I wanted to have Stranger set to stud with her."

With this news Sansa's face flashes bright red, and Sandor still supporting her, lowers her to the blanket to get her out of the sun. He asks, "Are you well little bird?" She replies, "Just a bit too much sun after so many weeks of gloom. I will be fine. Thank you"

With that assurance, Lady Margaery continues her rare conversation with The Hound. "So Clegane, this is the first time I have seen you without your armor and swords and white cape."

"Yes, Milady. I was ridding as much weight as possible. The mare is not as sturdy as Stranger. She is a fine animal though. I think Stranger will get on with her well enough." This statement will not help the flushed color running through Sansa's face leave anytime soon.

"I am sure he will. In your experience will the fold be on the larger side?"

"Larger then normal, but not unnaturally so, from my experience."

To her guards, "You may return to your hill, thank you Sers. We will be quite safe with King Joffery's sworn shield here. Clegane, please let us share our bounty with you. As a reward for you coming to our dear...little bird is it, her rescue. Please join us."

"Thank you, I can only stay for a few minutes, Ser Jaime will think I spirited his mare away."

"So Sansa have you ever seen our Clegane without his armor. I must say it is a nice look for you. You seem almost approachable."

"Well, I a...no...yes...no, I have never seen Ser...Sand... Clegane without his armor. I would not have recognized him. Yes, it is a good look for him," she finally spits out with a shy smile.

Sansa busies herself with hunting though the food basket. "Ser, sorry Clegane, would you like an apple or pear, we also have bread, meats and wines, and lemon cakes."

"I'll have wine and bread with a bite of meat". Margaery giggles while The Hound smirks at Margaery's reaction. It all goes over Sansa's head. She is assembling food, as thought her life depends on the task.

Sansa hands The Hound the red wine skin, which he rips open with his teeth, and takes a few large swigs from it. "Sour red. All a man needs. Or a woman." He then looks over at Sansa, and she turns a color that approaches a match for her hair.

"Well, Clegane, you have brought a bit of color to our Lady Sansa's complextion. Well, struck Hound!" Both Sandor and Margaery laugh, while Sansa wishes she could melt away from all the heat that has formed in her face.

To take the attention off of her, Sansa tries to steer the conversation back to the subject of horses, "Would you keep the fold or would Ser Jaime?"

"If it's a colt, I get him and pay him the brood mare fee. Otherwise, a fillie will go to Ser Jaime, and he pays me for the stud fee. I need a larger horse to work with."

"I see. Larger is better, as they say," Margaery states in all seriousness and then starts to laugh.

"Well, I should let you ladies get back to your lunch, and your conversations about whatever it is young ladies talk."

Margaery interjects as he rights himself, "The weather and MEN." To which Sansa turns beet red and takes on a distraught look. Margaery adds, "Clegane, I think our Lady Sansa is too affected by the sun. Would you ride her back to the Keep?"

"She does seem a bit overwhelmed and flushed. As you wish My Lady. I will see the little bird safely to her cage."

Sandor extends his massive upturned hand toward Sansa to help her up. She looks to Margaery, who winks at her and tells her she will gather everything and go back with her guards. Sansa accepts the hand up, but can only fit her hand comfortable around his first two finger; much like little Rickon used to grab onto their father's hand, before they left Winterfell. She only feels a fraction of Sandor's strength as he effortlessly takes over and moves her entire self at his will. He guides her to the borrowed horse. She looks him in his usually unreadable steel gray eyes, and sees something new there. Not the usual anger, but...mischief? As she gets lost in them, she forgets to keep following his lead and stumbles. He takes this as her need for more help, and wraps his arm behind her back and around her waist for support. Once they reach the horse he grabs her by the waist with both hands, and places her gently into the saddle.

"Hold tight little bird. Don't fall off your golden perch," he looks her in the eye. She expects his rumbly laugh to follow, mocking her, and his steel gray eyes to cut into her. It does not come to pass. As she looks him in the eye, and nods her head to confirm understanding him. Does she read genuine concern in his eyes? It is as if taking off his armor has let down other shields he uses to keep everyone at arm's length; which in his case is quite a distance. The Hound's mask is slipping. Sandor walks the horse with her astride slowly towards the Keep. Sansa fells for the first time, she is not only physically close to the supernatural force that is The Hound; but also she is connecting on a new level with Sandor Clegane, the man. Sandor walks on her left and the wind blows from her left. It brings his scent to her. It is not only not unpleasant, but it also overwhelms her and causes her heart to feel like it has dropped into her stomach. When did this happen?! WHAT is happening?! It is that feeling you get when you let your horse run full out, and suddenly it runs down a hill you were not expecting. The warm wind then shifts, and her hair blows into her face, blinding her. Sandor stops the golden horse, and smooths her hair from her eyes. His fingers comb her hair back. The pads of his thumbs brushed against her cheeks. Sansa smiles at him and blushes the prettiest shade of pink Sandor ever saw. She holds onto the saddle with a death grip that even The Hound himself would be hard pressed to release. Her breath leaves her and she starts to feel lightheaded.

"You are fading on me little bird."

"I just had too much sun I think. The heat is a bit overwhelming," she replies. She looks him in his eyes, and wonders why she never notice how long his eyelashes are. Why do boys always have the best eyelashes, wonders through her mind.

"I better get you out of the sun, this little lady will just have to take both our weights", referring to the golden horse of the golden handed Kingslayer. "Good thing you are light as a feather little bird."

Sandor joins Sansa in the saddle and wraps his left arm around her waist to secure her, and sends the horse into a gallop. In minutes they are within the yard of the Keep, headed to Jaime.

"Well, well, well Clegane, I thought you had run off with my new horse. Yet you return her with a beautiful gift. For me? You really shouldn't have", jokes Ser Jaime. Sansa shakes her head, as if she believes he misunderstands her presence on his horse.

"If I ever give you a gift, duck so you are not a head shorter receiving it; and not just a hand short. Lady Sansa is not feeling well. So I am returning her to her rooms. We will talk about your horse later." Sandor replies.

"I wish you a speedy recovery Lady Sansa", Jaime tells Sansa.

"Thank you Ser Jaime. It was just more sun and heat than I am used to, after weeks of clouds and rain", Sansa replies.

Turning to Sandor, "Speaking of heat, you had better take advantage of her now while she is in heat", Jaime casually says.

Sandor looks at Sansa. The look on her face is one of being struck by Meryn Trant's gauntlet, and he turns toward Jaime, "The fuck you say?!"

Jaime holds up both hands, old and new, flesh and gold, "Honor, my horse. Remember Hound... Stranger... short window of opportunity, while she is in season. Where was your mind?"

Sandor turns back to Sansa and curtly tells Jaime, "Later!"

"Fine," Jaime casually throws back, as he leads Honor back to the stable boy.

Sandor grabs Sansa by the upper arm, not ungently, and guides her into the Red Keep. He states under his breath, "One day Ser Jaime will be lucky if all I take is a hand." Sansa giggles a little. This lighter side of Sansa takes him by surprise. He looks at her as they walk. She looks more steady on her feet, but if she falls, he will catch her. ALWAYS! It is something he will never tell her. It is just what IS. She is absolutely the most radiant being he has ever dared look upon. It almost hurts him to look at her. She is so delicate and frail and weak on the outside, and strong on the inside; and too kind for her own good. He is EXACTLY the opposite, but he hides his weakness with unmatched physical strength and ferocity. He knows he will never feel as deeply about another creature as he feels for Sansa fucking Stark, in this moment, on this beautiful warm late summer day, when his guard is down. This moment may be all the love he ever allows himself to feel, before the armor goes back on, and the shields come back up. She looks up at him and smiles, like she has a secret. "What?" is all he says. "You." is all she replies, as she removes her arm from his hand and grabs onto his elbow.

"What about me?"

"You seem so human without your armor."

"Do I now, little bird?" As he wraps his hand over her hand.

"You should take your armor off my often."

"Why?"

"You are more approachable."

"I am the same in or out of armor. There is only one me."

"That is certainly true. I have met no other of your like. YOU, however, are The Hound in armor and Sandor Clegane out of it. I have rather enjoyed how Sandor Clegane has tended to me."

"It was The Hound that saved you in the Bread Riot."

"It was The Hound that scared me, when I tried to thank him for saving my virtue and my life."

"As Sandor Clegane, I will now accept your thank you, on behalf of The Hound."

Sansa smiles up at him, and she holds his gaze with a new found confidence.

"I am The Hound in or out of armor. Believe that, and never forget it." Sansa nods her head yes, and then looks down. She decides to change the subject, before The Hound reappears.

"The thing I miss about Winterfell, other than my family, are the blue roses. Did you see our blue roses while you were there?"

"No little bird. I never got the chance."

"Well, if you ever get up north again, you must see them."

"Do you think the are more beautiful than other roses?" Sandor asks.

"No, red roses are the most beautiful, but blue roses are the most unique and are of the north. Your gray eyes are of the north, did you know that?"

"Yes, little bird. My grandmother was from the North."

"Then you are like a blue rose."

They arrive at Sansa's chamber door. "Am I now?"

"Yes, you rare and of the north. Thank you for assisting me. I am feeling much better."

"Get some rest, before they bring you to dinner."

"I will probably eat in my rooms tonight."

"Then I bid you good day, little bird."

"Good day Se...Clegane". He gives her the look of The Hound returning. "Sorry. Good day Sandor." He nods to her, spins on his heels and walks away. She follows him with her eyes, wondering if she will ever see him again, so vulnerable and human. She will not let herself acknowledge what else she is looking at on his retreating form.

She removes her dress, and climbs on the bed to rest. The next thing she is aware of is her maid bringing her dinner, with it a blue rose in her hand. The maid sets it down on the table, and Sansa picks up the rose and asks from where it come. The maid says it was tied to the door knob with a length of leather. She holds out the leather cord for Sansa to take. Sansa says, "It must be from Lady Margaery. We were together earlier today, but I got too much sun." She waits for the maid to leave, and smiles as she smells the rose and looks for a vessel to hold her gift. She will press it in a book her mother gave her, after a few days of admiring it. She examines the leather cord. It looks like the leather tie that would hold a man's tunic closed at the neck. She betrays her own good manners, and smells the cord. It smells like leather and steel and Sandor Clegane. Her heart again drops into her stomach. She does not understand these new feeling, so she will have to discretely ask Margaery. Tonight she will tie her hair with the cord and dream of blue roses and gray eyes and strong thighs and Sandor Clegane.


End file.
